Chapter 25
25
RAE
M y head throbbed against my skull, its steady beat a thrum in my ears. My lips parted, but nothing escaped my raw throat and dry mouth as pain radiated through my very existence when I attempted to move. It wasn’t just my head, I realized too late. My entire body felt like it’d been tossed around like a sack of potatoes recently.
Even breathing hurt. With each short inhale, musty air coated the inside of my nostrils and coated my lungs with its stench.
What is that smell?
In the dark recesses of my mind, I searched for answers, my eyes sliding behind my closed lids. I ran from Alec and then the man. Fear coiled around me at the memory of his face, the stench of death that oozed off him like black tar.
My neck. Something was around my neck killing me.
Panic surged, making the beat in my head skyrocket and narrowing my senses, hyperaware of every sound, every smell and touch. Something soft yet tight secured my wrists behind my back. I rotated both hands as the material slid, biting into already raw flesh. My muscles screamed at me to stop moving, but I couldn’t lie here like a lamb for the slaughter.
My breaths grew shorter, more wheezes than full breaths. I had to fucking calm down or I’d hyperventilate, leaving me more helpless than I was currently. One thing at a time. I had to focus on one thing at a time, catalogue what I knew, and then go from there.
Both feet felt bound too, though that skin wasn’t nearly as painful when the binding rubbed against my ankles. Cloth secured my feet instead of plastic or metal.
Metal.
Handcuffs.
Grief slammed into me like a sucker punch to the gut. I curled in on myself, my body protesting. Oh, Alec. Tears burned behind my shut lids. He’d never know how I felt, that even without him saying anything or asking, I forgave him for what happened earlier. Hopefully he would feel the same one day. Forgive me for running away when all I had to do was trust him with my secrets. But I didn’t, and now here I was.
Alone. Hurt. Restrained. And, based on the wetness around my shorts, pretty sure I peed myself at some point.
A crack of thunder shook whatever structure I was in, sending a tremble along my prone body. Where the hell am I? Sweat and tears clung to my lashes, making it difficult to blink without the ability to rub my eyes. Finally, they released. Vision fuzzy, I tried to find anything familiar, but there was only darkness.
Except the far corner.
Blinking in rapid succession, I cleared the thin film clouding my vision and squinted through the darkness to the soft yellow light of a single lamp. It sat on a side table that looked ready to fall over if another boom of thunder shook the place.
Movement snapped my gaze to the recliner. Half doused in shadows, there was no mistaking the lower half of a man that was highlighted by the light. I stared at his moving hands, one in the light, the other hidden in darkness.
Somewhere close, water dripped into a bucket or puddle, making a constant plop. Rain sounded above me, loud, suggesting a metal roof. I focused on breathing deeper to keep the rasps quiet, allowing me to hear if someone approached from behind.
Coarse, stiff fabric scraped beneath my cheek and arm with each movement. With my eyes now adjusted to the dark, I could make out a faint stripe pattern with ribbing—corduroy, maybe? I tore my focus from the man’s moving hands to inspect my cage.
The little light glinted off the ceiling, the walls, the floor.
Metal. Metal surrounded me. A container maybe, by the wave of the walls.
A flash of light blinked, blinding me for a second before vanishing.
Leaks and cracks big enough for the flash of lightning to appear through.
An old, rusted container or shed maybe.
I shifted to stare at the man again. Over and over his hands moved in the same repetitive motion, winding something long and white around one hand before moving it to the other.
Another flash of lightning offered a half-second look at his face. I shivered at the hate on his snarling features even that brief light revealed. And like that lightning, his words—really just the one word—flashed to the forefront of my mind.
The bindings at my wrists tightened, biting into my skin deeper with each attempt to wrench myself free.
“Sister,” I rasped. The word physically hurt to say, like salt rubbing over an open wound.
His hands stilled. I held a shallow breath, waiting, watching. His predatory stillness struck fear deep inside my soul. Everything inside me screamed to get away, to run from the presence of evil.
Maybe he had the wrong girl, because I was no one’s sister. I was an only child to Stephanie and Chuck Chapin. We lived a quiet, happy life together with no other kids around. I think I would’ve noticed that. That had to be it. He had me confused with someone else. I just had to tell him and he’d let me free.
Right?
I dragged up the courage to speak again, wincing as I opened my mouth, knowing it would hurt.
“Not me,” I whispered. My cheek ground against the stiff material. Whatever I lay on was soft in some places, hard or pointy in others. An old couch, maybe. “It’s not me. Only child.”
That sent his hands back into motion, faster this time.
Around and around that white cord wound around his fists, not missing a beat.
“Please, let me go.”
Another rumble of thunder vibrated through the shed, followed by the deafening sound of rain pounding against the metal roof. More water trickled down the walls, fresh streams of water pouring everywhere, including from the ceiling directly above me. The icy rainwater seeped through my shirt, soaking and chilling my stomach. I shivered even though the temperature was sweltering in the small space.
“No.” I barely heard his gruff answer over the pounding rain. In one fluid motion, he stood, that damn cord still winding and unwinding between his hands.
“It’s not me. I don’t know you, I swear,” I cried, trying to make my words sound as truthful as they were.
“You’re right.”
I sucked in a breath. Did I hear him right? Maybe this was all a mistake after all, and he just realized, “Whoops, I kidnapped and restrained the wrong person.” I was sure it happened all the time, cases of mistaken identity and such.
“Yet still….” He moved a step closer. I shimmied back along the cushions to put even a centimeter more between us. “I hate you.”
Those words, his rigid, evil-laced tone, were like a death toll.
The small sliver of hope I had vanished. I cried and sobbed uncontrollably.
“Not me, not me, not me,” I sobbed over and over. “Not me.”
“Want to know why?”
I sucked in my lower lip and held it to keep my wailing to a minimum, then nodded. His form blurred in my watery vision as he went back to that chair and sat. I really didn’t want to hear his crazy speech, but the longer I kept him talking, the longer I was alive and gave Alec time to find me. Save me. I just had to give them time. I had to do what I could to stay alive until they broke down the doors, wherever they were, and free me.
As the rain continued to drain from the roof onto my clothes, the runoff slipped along my sides and pooled on the couch. An idea formed, only to vanish with his revelation.
“Did you know you have a twin?”
I gaped at him. “No,” I drawled. “I’m an only child.”
He leapt up from the chair and took a menacing step toward me. “You callin’ me a liar?”
I blanched. “No, no, of course not. It’s just—” I licked my cracked lips. “—improbable.”
His laugh held zero humor. “They never told you that you weren’t theirs to begin with. Of course they didn’t.” That white cord went taut between his hands. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the happy family lie.”
I wanted to scream that it wasn’t a lie but kept my mouth sealed shut. But his words…. I’d always wondered why Mom and Dad were so small and I so big. I didn’t match either of them, actually. My features didn’t resemble either of them. I shook my head to dislodge the thought. I couldn’t let his delusions suck me in too.
But I had to humor him.
“So, if I’m this twin, your twin, why would you hate me? Why, when we’ve never even met?”
“Because,” he said, the word a hissing sound, “you left me.”
I blinked. And blinked some more.
“As a baby,” I added incredulously. “How would that be my fault?”
“It wasn’t mine either.”
“What?” I asked.
“Being born.” Back and forth his hands wound and unwound the cord, but he seemed lost in thought, no longer interested in telling me why.
For several seconds, maybe minutes, only the sound of the heavy rain outside and the occasional clap of thunder sounded.
“Do you know what happened to me after you left? What was happening to me while you lived your perfect”—he spat the word like a curse—“safe life.”
My stomach rolled. No, no, I didn’t want to know. For him to be this bitter, depraved, it had to have been horrible, the things of horror movies and nightmares.
“How do you know it’s me?” I asked to distract him from giving me the horrible details I knew without a doubt were about to spew from his cruel mouth.
He leaned forward in the chair, his dead eyes moving into the light. My heart stopped.
“Our mom.” I wanted to scream, “Not my mom.” My mom was dead, and even though he hadn’t confirmed my suspicions, I assumed she and my father died at his hands. And almost two dozen other people. “Before she died. OD’d because of him.” Thin lips pressed tight, he snapped that cord between clenched fists. “Everything happened because of him.”
I really didn’t want to know who this him was.
“But I took care of him when I could. Too late for her, for me.” I almost didn’t hear the last two whispered words. “Now,” he said with conviction, maybe relief, “it’s your turn.”
“Why?” I cried and fought against the binds, trying to ignore the searing pain it caused. “It’s not me.”
“But it is. And now you’ll pay just like her.”
“Who?” My voice quivered.
“Your fake mom. The one who took you.” His chest heaved like he’d just run a full marathon. “Took you from me.” Standing, he stormed over to where I lay. I cowered into the crevice of the couch, but still his hand found a way into my hair, gripping hard and tearing out a chunk as he hauled me upright. “Why?”
“Why what?” I sobbed from the pain and fear of my impending death.
“Why not me!” he screamed into my face, sending spittle and the scent of decay over my skin. “What made you so fucking special?” His vacant eyes scanned my face. “You’re just like me. A no one, trash used and tossed.” He threw me back to the couch with more force than I expected from the thin man, and my head slammed against the armrest. “We were born to be no one together,” he raged. “And you left me to live it alone.”
I tried not to move an inch, keeping as still as possible to not draw his attention as he paced.
“So I made you feel it. Gave you a glimpse into my pathetic life, but it would never be enough. Until now.” He turned on his heels and stared me down. “It ends soon for the both of us.”
Tears clogged in my throat, choking and strangling my shallow breaths.
That cord went taut as he stepped toward me, toward my throat. I begged for help, for anyone to save me, for him to listen that he had the wrong person.
“Not me, not me, not me,” I repeated over and over between shouts.
Smooth, almost soft thin cloth pressed to my throat.
A sharp ringing sound chirped over my sobbing and the raging storm.
He cursed and stepped back. I sagged in relief and tried to regain control over my breathing to not pass out. Against the wall, he held a flip phone to his face and squinted at the screen. He smacked the phone closed when he finished reading, the sound lost in another roar of thunder.
Exhausted emotionally and physically, I didn’t move when he approached and squatted so we were at eye level.
“They released my messenger. I need to kill him before we can finish this.” I shuddered at the ease he spoke about killing someone. “Wouldn’t want him telling anything more and cutting my time with you short.” Out of nowhere, he withdrew a short blade. The hard, sharp steel caressed down my cheek, slicing as it went. I felt my hot blood glide down my cheek and neck. “Because I have plans for you. So many plans.”
With a rush of warm wind, he and the knife disappeared. Heavy steps grew distant behind me, followed by a groan of heavy metal screeching in protest. Then a bang rattled, vibrating through the entire room.
The rain steadily hammered the roof, unrelenting as time slowly passed. After a few minutes, I talked myself into believing he truly left, that I was alone. It was time to get myself out of there.
Heart hammering against my chest, I sucked down gulps of air to calm the panic that had frozen me in place. Eyes squeezed shut, I focused on the one thing that could calm me down, that gave me a sense of control and comfort.
Alec.
Over and over I told myself he was out there searching, doing everything he could to find me. I thought about his smirk and dimple, his protective spirit, and stormy eyes. Slowly my breaths deepened, calming some of my anxiety, enough to move at least.
I twisted to stare at the ceiling, at the streams of water pouring from the cracks and holes above. A quick flash of lightning sparked, highlighting the hundreds of tiny openings along the metal roof.
I had to break free and find a way out before he came back. Now was time for courage, not fear. A renewed sense of purpose rejuvenated my depleted energy, calming my panic and drying my eyes.
Yes, Alec would come for me, but who knew how long that would take? Today there would be none of this waiting around for Prince Charming bullshit. I could be my own hero for once.